


So How Do You Say 'Help Me?'

by chanderson



Series: You Complete Me [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, One Shot, Whamilton - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 06:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10431546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanderson/pseuds/chanderson
Summary: Alex's defense mechanism of choice has always been lashing out at the people who care about him.Set in the same verse as my story Down for the Count.The title is from the song Sunrise in In the Heights.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Like the summary says, this is set in the same verse as my story Down for the Count. You don't necessarily have to read that first. All you need to know is that George is a 34-year-old lawyer and Alex is a 24-year-old law student. Hope you enjoy!

Driving while sleep deprived is almost as bad as driving drunk. George knows that, but he didn’t want to leave his car at the airport and take an Uber. That would just be a hassle. 

So now he’s stuck in New York traffic and he wants to scream and slam his head into his steering wheel.

He growls and slams on his brakes as a taxi cab cuts him off.

“You fucking asshole,” he shouts into the empty car, laying on his horn. He’s not usually that aggressive of a driver, but he’s exhausted and feels grimy and disgusting from traveling all day. George just wants to sleep. His temper tends to flare up when he’s tired.

When he finally gets home, he leaves his suitcase in the car. That would take way too much effort. He contemplates falling asleep on the couch, but he knows that would only hurt his back, so he drags himself into his bedroom.

George strips out of his clothes and throws them into the laundry bag. He stumbles toward his bed, but stops short.

“Alex?” 

Alex is asleep in his bed, sprawled out on his stomach. He’s breathing softly, his facial features completely relaxed. George loves watching Alex sleep. It’s the only time he looks truly peaceful. 

George lays down very carefully, not wanting to wake Alex up, but his eyes fly open anyway. He immediately sits up, panic clear in his eyes.

“Look, I can explain. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just, my studying was so fucking overwhelming, and I couldn’t stay in my apartment. It’s so dark and I always feel trapped when I’m there. Your apartment is so much bigger and more open. And your bed is so comfortable. I had the key you gave me so I just sort of let myself in—”

“Alexander, sweetheart, I don’t care that you’re in my bed.” George pauses and looks at Alex. The dark smudges under his eyes suggest that this is the first sleep Alex has had in a while. He’s pale, and his eyes are bloodshot. George sighs. “Alex, have you eaten today?” Alex looks away, staring at a spot on the wall. 

“I tried to. It made me nauseous.” 

“Anxiety?” Alex nods. He looks down at his lap and picks at a loose thread on the blanket. 

“How bad?”

“Eight,” Alex says softly. George winces and scoots over closer to Alex. He wraps him in his arms and squeezes him in a hug. 

“Did you throw up?” Alex nods. 

“Okay, you’re probably dehydrated. I’ll get you some water. Did you take any Xanax?”

“I’m out.” George tightens his jaw, trying not to get angry.

“Alex, you have to remember to get your prescription refilled.” George gets up and goes into the kitchen. He’s so exhausted that his head is starting to ache, a sharp, stabbing pain in his forehead. 

He fills up a glass of water and carries it into the bedroom. He presses it into Alex’s hands. “Drink as much as you can.” Alex rolls his eyes dramatically. 

“You are the biggest worrier I have ever met.” Alex takes a few small sips of the water and tries to set it down, but George grabs his wrist gently and gives him a pointed look. Alex sighs and takes a few more sips. 

“Sorry I care about you,” George mutters. “Someone has to take care of you, because sure as hell don’t take care of yourself.” Alex moves to set the water down, and George doesn’t stop him this time. 

“Thank you. I really do appreciate it. It’s just…” Alex waves his hand in the air, sighing in frustration. “I can’t put it into words.” 

“It’s okay.” George smooths Alex’s hair back. “Do you think you could go back to sleep?” Alex shrugs. 

“I don’t know. Probably not. I’d rather get up, actually.” Alex slides out of the bed. “That whole restless thing is happening.” George nods.

“Alright that’s okay. You can walk around or do whatever you need.”

“Gotcha.” Alex hesitates in the doorway. “You want me to close the door?” George pinches the bridge of his nose and nods. 

“Yeah. Thanks. Get me up if you need anything.” Alex shrugs and George narrows his eyes. “I’m serious, Alex. Wake me up if you start to feel worse. I won’t be annoyed.” 

“Alright. Love you, Wash.” George smiles and lays down, eyes already falling closed. 

“Love you too.” 

Alex closes the door with a click. 

\---

Alex goes into the living room and starts to pace, trying to keep his thoughts off of all the school work he should be doing right now. Instead, he focuses on walking as quietly as possibly. Of course, that’s easier said than done. Every few seconds Alex is hit with a wave of anxiety. He glances at George’s door, biting his lip. George told him to wake him up, but he looked so tired. He obviously has a headache, and Alex knows how bad George’s headaches can get. 

Alex finally sits down on the couch and hugs a pillow to his chest. He tries to take a deep breath but it gets caught in his throat. 

“Jesus I’m such a mess,” Alex mutters. “I can’t believe I thought I could actually handle going to law school at Columbia. I’m surprised I haven’t failed out yet.” Alex half laughs-half sobs and presses his face into the pillow. “And now I’m talking to myself. Perfect.” 

He blinks and a few tears run down his face. His face is starting to get hot and there’s a tight lump in his throat. He lays down on the couch and shoves his face into a pillow to stifle his sobs. 

The sobs wrack his entire body, still loud even with the pillow muffling them. His thoughts are racing so quickly that he can’t keep up with them. 

“Alex?” George is suddenly standing above him and he hesitantly touches his back. Alex recoils, sobbing. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just go back to sleep George.” He shivers and another sob jerks through his body.

“ _Alex_ ,” George says. “Please sit up.” Alex sniffs and begrudgingly sits up. He stares at his lap and rubs his nose with his arm. The couch dips as George sits down. 

“Can I touch you?” Alex shakes his head no, and he doesn’t have to look at George to know that he’s wearing a wounded, guilty look that he’ll quickly try to cover up. Alex has seen it before. 

“I kind of want to be alone.” Alex sniffs and squeezes the pillow. 

“Please don’t send me away. I’m worried about you, Alex.” 

“You’re _always_ worried about me, George,” Alex snaps. He can’t help it; his defense mechanism of choice has always been lashing out at the people who care about him. It’s why he doesn’t have very many friends. George tenses and blows out a frustrated whoosh of air. 

“I’m sorry that I care about you,” he snaps back. He huffs a sarcastic laugh. “You know what? I’m not doing this right now.” George stands up abruptly. “Just because you’re upset doesn’t mean you can treat me like shit.”

“I can’t fucking help it, George.” Alex finally looks up at George, challenging him with his eyes, begging for a fight. George is standing with his fists clenched tight, and he’s grinding his teeth. A bad habit that he does when he’s upset. His eyes flash angrily.

“Whatever. I’m leaving. I need to get out of here. I can’t do this right now.” George turns and stalks to his bedroom. He slams his door so hard that it rattles on the hinges, and the sound echoes like the crack of a gun shot. Alex can hear George angrily shoving his cabinets open and closed. Then he wrenches the door open, slamming it into the wall. 

“You’re going to fuck up your door and wall if you keep doing that,” Alex says snidely. George glares at Alex and the anger in his eyes is intense enough to make Alex recoil slightly. 

“I’m staying the night at Martha’s apartment. I’d like you to be out of my apartment when I come back tomorrow. You can stay here tonight because I don’t think you could get yourself home, and I’d rather you not get hurt.” 

“Why do you treat me like I’m some stupid child? I could get home, George. Taking the subway isn't hard. Jesus, you don’t have to leave your own apartment. Why are you being so fucking dramatic?”

“I treat you like some stupid child because you’re always acting like one,” George shouts. He swallows and clenches his fists. “You’re upset. I don’t want you out walking around. Just stay here until you feel better.” He rubs at his forehead and winces. “I’m not being dramatic. I’m just not in the mood for this, and I know that the longer I stay here, the angrier I’ll get.” 

Then George is gone, front door slammed shut behind him. 

Alex groans and goes back into George’s bedroom. His chest is tight with anxiety. What if George leaves him? It’s something Alex worries about constantly. He hides it behind jokes and acting like a cocky jerk, but it’s always lurking in the back of his mind. 

George is 10 years older than Alex. He’s smart, handsome, and successful. He’s lived through the death of his father, a war, the death of his brother, his mother disowning him. Sure Alex has had his share of tragic life events, but he’s an immature, overworked 24-year-old law student. What the fuck does he have to offer George aside from a superb stamina in bed?

Alex is starting to pant, his breaths painfully short. He closes his eyes and tries to count backward from 10. He has to count seven times before his breathing slows down.

Exhausted with his nerves shot, Alex curls up and falls asleep with his face pressed into George’s pillow, his scent wrapped around him.

** *** **

George agitatedly presses the buzzer to Martha’s apartment several times before she lets him up. She’s standing in her kitchen pouring two cups of tea. George drops his bag down with a thud.

“You are so stubborn George Washington,” she says, arching an eyebrow as he collapses into a chair at the small kitchen table. 

“Martha,” he sighs. “I’m not in the mood.” She sits in the seat opposite him and pushes a cup of tea across the table for him. 

“I don’t care. You can’t seriously call me at midnight telling me that you’re coming to sleep on my couch because you can’t deal with your boyfriend and expect me not to give you a talking to.” George puts his head down on the table and groans in frustration. 

“I am so fucking tired, Martha. All I want to do is sleep. It feels like someone is slowly shoving a butcher knife into my forehead, and the only thing I want is to not feel that anymore.” Martha sighs. 

“Did you take some medicine?”

“Yes,” George snaps. “It didn’t work.” He sits up and holds his head in his hands. 

“Alright, alright. Calm down, George. Drink some of that tea. It’s good; I promise.” George takes a small sip of his tea and hums in approval. 

“Thanks.” Martha smiles and reaches over to pat his hand. 

“Will you tell me what’s wrong now? I know you love to bottle everything up inside and ‘deal with it yourself,’” she says in an imitation of George’s voice, using air quotes. “But how about you just talk to me about it now?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it. It was just a stupid argument. He got mean like he always does when he gets upset. That pissed me off, we shouted at each other, and I left.” 

“Why did it piss you off?” Martha takes a sip of her tea. George narrows his eyes. 

“No, see, I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to trick me into talking this out, but I’m not going to fall for it.” Martha rolls her eyes. 

“You are so insufferable.” George laughs and shakes his head. 

“Alex says the same thing.” He smiles fondly, thinking about all of the times Alex has sighed dramatically and muttered about how stubborn George is. 

Then George is hit with a pang of guilt, and he swallows. “I shouldn’t have stormed out on him,” he says softly. “He was really upset.” Martha smiles slyly into her tea and nods, encouraging George to keep talking. “He was complaining about me worrying about him, though, and I don’t know why, but that always pisses me off. It makes me feel like he hates me.”

“Why?” 

“Because,” George pauses and rubs his chin. “I think it’s because that’s how I show him I love him—by taking care of him and worrying about him—so when he dismisses that, it feels like he doesn’t care that I love him.” George shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s confusing.” 

“It’s not confusing, George.” Martha gets up and sets her cup in the sink. “C’mon, lets go to the bed.” George chuckles and follows Martha into her room. 

“This feels like one of those things you do with your friends when you talk about boys and stuff.” 

“George, you and I are literally talking about boys right now. Just get in bed you idiot.” George smiles fondly and gets in the bed. He turns to face Martha and props himself up on his arm. The room is dark and the light from the window is casting shadows on her face. “Alright, now where were we?” Martha asks.

“I think I was talking about me worrying about Alex.” 

“Right. Continue.” George rolls over onto his back and stares at the ceiling; it’s easier to talk this way. 

“I just want him to be safe. He doesn’t care about his own wellbeing at all. It’s like he thinks he can just run himself into the ground and be okay at the end of the day. He ran out of his Xanax prescription. I’ve told him that he has to get that filled regularly. He has to go to his doctor and get the prescription pad because it requires authorization to fill, you know? Why can’t he do that? I always text him to remind him. I even set up reminders on his phone.” George growls in frustration. “It’s so infuriating watching someone you care about self destruct.” 

“George,” Martha says gently. 

“Loving him is so exhausting. I have to make sure he eats, drinks enough water, takes his blood pressure medicine—” 

“George,” Martha says more sternly. 

“What?” George snaps.

“It sounds like you treat him like a child. Maybe that’s why he gets annoyed?”

“I wouldn’t have to treat him like a child if he didn’t act like one.” 

“George, honey, you need to relax. Alex is a grown man. Give him a little space and encouragement and I’m sure he would do just fine. You can worry about him, but you don’t have to hover.” Martha reaches over and takes George’s hand. She laces their fingers and squeezes his hand gently. 

“He reminds me of Lawrence,” George says quietly after a few minute of silence. “And I lost Lawrence. I can’t lose Alex too.” Martha sighs and squeezes George’s hand again. 

“Lawrence was sick, George. And I remember how much he depended on you, especially after your dad died. I think having that responsibility put on you stayed with you, and now you don’t know how to handle taking care of someone without completely taking control. Alex doesn’t need you to micromanage him like Lawrence did.”

“Yeah,” George says weakly. “I guess you’re right.”

“Have you thought about going back to a doctor, George? It helped a lot back in high school and college…”

“And after the war,” George says. “When I came back all fucked up and you didn’t?” 

“Now that’s not fair.” George sighs and nods.

“I know; I’m sorry.” George pulls his fingers through his short curls. “I feel like I need to be strong for him, you know?” 

“I think the best way for you to do that is if you get some help. Because you weren’t so strong for him tonight were you?” 

“No,” George mutters. He sighs and squeezes Martha’s hand again. “Can we sleep now? I don’t think I can handle anymore heart-to-heart stuff tonight.” Martha laughs softly and lets go of George’s hand. 

“Yeah. I’ll let you off the hook. Good night Georgie.” George rolls onto his side and gets comfortable. 

“Lets not bring that nickname back,” George says with a quiet chuckle. “I’ll start having flashbacks to fifth grade when that asshole Thomas Jefferson bullied me.”

“Oh God, I forgot about that. He was such a prick. I bet you could take him now.”

“I definitely could.” George and Martha both snicker before settling back down. George falls asleep as soon as he closes his eyes.

** *** **

Alex wakes up with a start, heart hammering in his chest. The sun is shinning in his eyes and he squints. _Fuck_. He was supposed to leave last night. He forgot to set his alarm. 

“Dammit!” Alex scrambles out of bed and starts gathering his things. He pulls on one of his shoes and drops down to his knees to look for the other one. “Where is my damn shoe?” Alex mutters as he lays on his stomach to check under the bed. 

“Looking for this?” Alex sits up so fast he gets dizzy. 

George is leaning in the doorway with Alex’s shoe in his hand. Alex immediately stands up.

“George I’m really sorry. I was gonna set an alarm but I just sort of fell asleep and I forgot,” Alex says quickly. “I’ll leave now. I just need to grab my backpack.”

“Alex, you don’t have to leave.” George hands Alex his shoe. “Unless you want to.” George bites his lip nervously and his eyes dart away. He stares at a spot on the wall above Alex’s head. 

“I don’t want to,” Alex says softly. He drops his shoe and toes the other off. “I missed you last night.” Alex hesitantly reaches out and takes George’s hand. 

“I missed you too.” George smiles sadly. “C’mon, I made you some coffee and toast.” 

“With cherry jam?” 

“Of course.” 

“You know me so well, George.” 

Alex drinks his coffee and actually eats all of his toast, mostly because he knows it’ll make George happy. 

When he’s finished and his plate and mug are loaded in the dishwasher, he lets George lead him over to the couch. 

“I’m really sorry about last night,” George starts. Alex opens his mouth to respond, but George holds up his hand. Alex blows out a frustrated puff of air. “Hold on. I need to talk before you give me your four hour discourse,” George says jokingly. 

“Hey, I don’t throw out four hour discourses for just anyone. I don’t know if you quite make the cut.” Alex grins and pokes George in the side. George smiles at him before giving him another serious look.

“No but for real, I acted like an asshole last night, Alex. You were just upset, and everything you said, it was justified okay? And when I accused you of using your mental health as an excuse to be mean… That was really unfair. I shouldn’t have said that. I need you to know that I respect you and know that your problems are real. It was wrong of me to discredit and belittle your anxiety like that.” 

Alex opens his mouth to reply again and George gives him a pointed look. Alex obediently shuts his mouth and smiles sheepishly. “I do treat you like a child, and I’m really sorry. I’m going to try to stop doing that. There’s a long, stupid backstory behind it that I don’t really want to talk about right now, but know that I’m going to work on it.” George takes a deep breath and relaxes back into the couch. 

“Is it finally my turn?” Alex asks playfully. George nods and laughs softly. “Thank God. This discourse is just begging to be let out.” Alex smirks and absentmindedly pushes his hair behind his ear. “Look, I totally acted like an asshole too. I can’t really help the anxiety, but I do a really bad job of managing it. I shouldn’t be striking out at you like that. It’s super unhealthy and stupid. I’m not a stupid 18-year-old undergrad anymore; I’ve got to actually find constructive, legitimate ways to deal with my anxiety. So know that I’m gonna work on that. I’m going to try to take better care of myself, too. I already called my doctor and made an appointment to get my Xanax refilled. And we’re gonna look at some other medications that would manage the anxiety on a day-to-day basis and not just treat the attacks.” 

“That’s awesome, Alex.” George smiles. Alex feels a swell of pride at George’s praise.

“Yeah I know I’m the best. Tell me something I don’t know, Wash.”

“There’s the Alex I know.” George lays down with his head in Alex’s lap, and Alex smiles. He pushes his fingers through George’s curls, loving the way the corse, tight curls feel against his fingers.

“I’m so fucking glad you’ve let your hair grow out. It’s seriously hot. I’m going to have to start beating off those lawyers working at your firm.”

“Oh, yeah, because all of my coworkers are so gay.”

“George, babe, Lafayette is so gay for you.”

“Hate to break it to you but he’s married, remember?”

Alex shakes his head and tweaks George’s nose. George is so oblivious when it comes to this stuff. It’s weirdly endearing.

“I know, I’ve met her. Adrienne, right? Just because he’s married doesn’t mean he can’t look. And trust me, he looks. Last time I visited you at work you were wearing that really hot charcoal suit that I fucking love, and he was staring at you like he wanted to jump you right there in the lobby.”

“Well, at least he’s attractive.”

“Damn, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Alex waggles his eyebrows, a mischievous grin on his face.

“No, I’ve come to realize that I’m very rarely thinking what you’re thinking.”

“Threesome?”

Alex laughs at the face George pulls. “Oh you know I’m only joking you prude. Well, mostly joking.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me one of these days.”

“Hey, give yourself a little credit. You’re not _that_ old yet, Wash. 34 is the new 30.”

“Oh boy a whole four years younger.”

Alex shrugs. “Fine, stay old and 34 then.” Alex crosses his arms in mock indignation. George sits up and looks at Alex, studying his face.

“You’re so pretty, Alex.”

“I know.” Alex smirks and leans forward to kiss George slowly. “So are you,” he says, moving his lips to kiss George’s ear. He gently bites George’s ear lobe and tugs on it. George’s breath stutters and Alex chuckles and releases his ear with a pop.

“You’re so easy, George.” 

George makes a whining noise in his throat and presses his lips against Alex’s. He sucks on Alex’s bottom lip and bites it before pulling away. Alex moans and drags his fingers through George’s hair. 

“If I’m easy, what does that make you?” George murmurs against Alex’s lips, his breath hot.

“Oh fuck off. Can you take me to your bedroom already?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently obsessed with In the Heights-era Chris Jackson, so George has hair in this because Chris was so cute with his curly hair. This was originally going to be sweet and cute but ended up being very angsty. Sorry about that! Maybe I'll write some more in this verse and actually develop this backstory, but who knows. Comments are very appreciated!


End file.
